Sessions One Through Ad Nauseam

Disclaimor/Notes: Still no ownage of anything except a brand spanking new copy of "28 Days Later". Why didn't anybody tell me that Cillian Murphy was freakin' completely naked in that movie? I nearly choked to death on a potato chip. Adoration and praise for my reviewers is at the bottom along with a scene from the next chapter so don't miss it!


Session Two: What Evil Wants


“What are you going to do with him, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked Bruce immediately upon the latter’s entrance into the new sitting room. The south wing of the manor was mostly complete as it contained a majority of the bedrooms, but it had left the two wanting for more functional rooms. Based on the old blueprints of the mansion, their “sitting room” was actually his parents’ former bedroom. Bruce felt strangely peaceful to spend his evenings in a room that resembled in every bit of wood and stone his parents’ most personal space.

Bruce avoided the butler’s eyes as he hung his jacket up on the wall. The guilt and shame had hit him midway up the long path to the garden. He’d been as mad as the doctor to do what he’d done. It was ridiculous enough to let that maniacal criminal touch him but to take such a sadistic pleasure in tormenting him? Bruce remembered with a heavy sickness in his gut the bright pain on Crane’s pale face and was shamed that even the memory of it caused his sated cock to twitch in this pants.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred’s voice was concerned, free from the judgment and disappointment he would feel if he discovered what Bruce had done.

“Sorry, Alfred.” Bruce turned to meet his old caretaker’s worried eyes. “It’s just a huge shock. This could jeopardize everything.”

“And land you in prison, if you’ll forgive my saying so. That wasn’t a small amount of property damage you caused with your high-speed car chase.”

“Yeah,” Bruce breathed, his worries over being found out paling in significance next to the frightful desire he could still taste regarding Dr. Crane. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sir?” Again with the concern, tinged with no small bit of fear. “That Scarecrow chap didn’t happen to release any strange chemicals around you, did he?”

Bruce nearly laughed but stopped himself just in time. Not unless he’s gone into the aphrodisiac business, Bruce thought but aloud said, “I’m fine, Alfred. Just tired. It’s been a long day. Crane’s fine for now where he is. I’ll figure out what to do with him later.”

Do to him later, his libido corrected smugly and Bruce wanted to rip his own hair out in frustration.

“I’ll wake you when you need to meet Lucius for your appointment, sir.” The worry was still present in Alfred’s voice but he’d covered it mostly up with British professionalism.

“Of course, Alfred.” Bruce nodded slightly before leaving the room to his make-shift bedroom. He’d forgotten completely about his noon appointment with Fox at Wayne Enterprises. Fox had contacted him the day before and indicated that it would be extremely important for Bruce to speak with him in person. The scientist hadn’t discussed what the issue was, but Bruce knew it had to be something more than business problems. Fox had actually sounded a bit…worried. That was troublesome enough to warrant coming in immediately, but Fox had insisted on him coming the next day.

As Bruce entered his new bedroom, formerly the largest guest room in the old manor, he began shedding his clothes immediately. He didn’t always sleep naked, or go without underwear as a matter of course. It would be terribly awkward considering that Alfred was usually around when he woke up. He had made an exception today and he decided to blame that on his indiscretion with Crane.

Bruce slid underneath the thick covers and took a moment to enjoy the luxuriously soft mattress. That was definitely one thing he’d missed while he’d been exploring the heart of evil. Evil apparently didn’t like to splurge on expensive mattresses. He’d spent countless nights sleeping on dirt, thin blankets, and concrete.

Much like Crane was doing right now. Bruce turned his face into his pillow and screamed without a sound. He wanted the man out of his head. The man along with his long limbs, tousled hair, soft lips, and those goddamned eyes! Not to even go into his quiet mocking voice that practically caressed every insult and plea with his sweet tongue that had worked so wetly around Bruce’s cock, licking and rubbing and—

Bruce pulled his hand away from his revived erection with a shudder. None of that was helping. He tried to concentrate on something else, something other than lean doctors with wicked mouths, and began a visualization exercise he’d learned under Ducard’s tutelage.

He pictured a sword in his mind, one of the sleek weapons that he trained with in the League of Shadows. He began with the tip of the sword, how it was sharp and long, and admired its beauty, its ability to penetrate smoothly—

And that wasn’t helping either. Bruce opened his eyes to the dark ceiling above and then decided to give up. His mind, despite all his years of training it to obey, was going to go where it wanted no matter what he did. He might as well enjoy the ride.

That decided Bruce was immediately transported back to an hour ago, with Crane on his knees before him, his lush mouth sucking enthusiastically on Bruce’s aching cock and his damned eyes regarding him so coolly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bruce managed out in his fantasy world. It took all of his strength to pull Crane off of his cock. The doctor looked annoyed at the interruption.

“And how was I looking at you, Batman?” Crane separated the two words in his title, saying them like he was tasting them.

“Like you’re not getting off on this too.” Bruce pulled Crane to his feet and pulled him close to his body. While the doctor had impeccable control over his voice and face, he had little over his body and it shook against Bruce’s own. Bruce took Crane’s chin in hand and kissed him again. Like before it was pure domination, hard and wet and almost desperate in its intensity. Crane’s trembling increased tenfold until Bruce snaked his free hand from the doctor’s sharp hip to his own cloth-covered erection. Crane jerked and gasped against Bruce’s lips. He tried to pull away but Bruce held on tight. He was not letting him get away this time.

“You want this too, Crane,” Bruce whispered, releasing his mouth just far enough to get out the sentence. Crane’s eyes no longer seemed quite as cool and he swallowed hard in response to Bruce’s words. Or possibly it was in response to the strong hand that was caressing him gently, relentlessly.

“I—,” Crane began, breathlessly, his voice no longer mocking or certain.

“Want me,” Bruce finished, his dark eyes boring into Crane’s as he continued his assault on his long cock. “You want me to take you, hard and fast, over and over again until there’s nothing left in you to come. You want me to show you who’s in charge of Gotham City after the sun goes down and the lights go out. I’m what evil fears.”

Bruce leaned over until his lips were touching Crane’s ear and he whispered intensely, “And. You. Want. To. Be. Punished.”

Crane cried out, coming hard in his ragged asylum uniform, his maddeningly blue eyes open wider than before and only seeing one thing.

Batman.

Bruce came furiously into his hand, his teeth clenched tightly to prevent any noises from escaping. He stare down his sweat-covered bare body and sighed once more.

There was no way that this was going to turn out well.


* * *


“I’m sorry you had to come out here on a Saturday, Bruce. I know this is a busy day for spelunking billionaire playboys.” Lucius Fox was flashing his usual knowing smirk, but under that lay an obvious vein of worry.

“Never apologize if it’s important,” Bruce assured him, following the older man into his new laboratory. It was well-lit and state-of-the-art, everything that Fox deserved.

“I would have had you come in sooner, but—,” Fox broke off and paused, the fear he’d been concealing thus far momentarily shining through with full force. Bruce stared at him in concern.

“Lucius?”

“I thought I could get a handle on it.” Fox shook his head in frustration. “It worked so well for everybody else that I thought if I could just have a little more time, I’d figure it out.”

“You mind cluing me in on what you’re talking about?”

“It’s the cure, Bruce,” Fox said, his voice low and intense. “The cure for the panic hallucinogen that everybody in the Narrows supposedly received.”

“You mean there were people that didn’t?” Bruce was properly horrified. Of course many of the patients of Arkham Asylum that had already been induced with the hallucinogen prior to that night were too far gone to save or were too well-hidden to be injected with the cure Wayne Enterprises had distributed soon after. However he’d believed that all the law-abiding citizens of the Narrows had been fully cured before their minds had been destroyed.

“Oh, everybody was supposed to get it right away.” Fox chuckled darkly and turned on a display. The screen lit up, showing a population census of Gotham City taken specifically in the Narrows.

“These are how many people were introduced to the gas.” Fox pointed to a shockingly long line that encompassed nearly every citizen in the area. “And these are how many people that were given the cure in the following week.”

Bruce blinked sharply as Fox pointed at a line that wasn’t even half of the original one. “What about everybody else? They didn’t get it at all?”

“Most of them got it all right.” Fox shook his head. “But we’re talking about people that live on the streets, Bruce, in our city’s biggest slum or people that are so used to fear that they didn’t even bother coming out that night. Our workers didn’t find them for weeks after they were originally gassed.”

“It didn’t work?” Bruce asked although he already knew the answer.

“Not exactly.” Fox turned off the display. “They showed initial improvement but most suffered radical personality changes. A loving mother of three becomes terrified of her own children and tries to kill them all. The local butcher starts slicing up more than meat. The people seem liked they’re cured until something triggers them. Then it’s a bumpy ride to a complete mental breakdown.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“That’s what I’ve been working on nonstop for the past week, Bruce.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m an engineer, not a chemist. I’m not even sure how the original hallucinogen was created, much less how to create a cure for it. You, Gordon, and the others that were given the antidote right away hadn’t been exposed to the toxin long enough for it to cause permanent damage. There should be a way to help the others, but I can’t do it. I’d need to be a hell of a lot better with mixing psychological toxins.”

“Like the man who created the gas originally,” Bruce said dully.

“Dr. Crane? Yeah, he might be able to do it. But last I heard he was riding a police horse down Central Avenue and calling himself the Scarecrow. Even if we could find him, he probably wouldn’t help us.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Bruce said and then quickly explained the doctor’s appearance in his cave. He left out the part about Crane sucking him off. It seemed a little personal.

“So there is a temporary cure.” Fox thought for a moment. “If we combine our resources, we might be able to find a permanent one. That is, if we can trust him.”

“Not a bit,” Bruce said and then paused. “But I think he genuinely wants to find a cure, at least for himself.”

Bruce stared down at his hands, a heat rising in him with his next words, “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t stab us in the back, even if I have to handcuff myself to him.”

“Spending that much time with a crazy genius could be dangerous, Bruce. You sure you’re up for it?”

Bruce swallowed hard. “I guess we’ll find out.”


* * *


To understand Dr. Jonathan Crane’s thought process while he was under the influence of the gas would have required a degree in advanced psychology and dual personalities, a lot of patience, and an in-depth knowledge of the world of sexual sadism. One thought usually contained a plethora of strange fears, hidden desires, and the occasional odd movie trivia. However if one were to piece it together rationally, a coherent pattern would emerge.

The Scarecrow wanted to be free, physically and, yes, he could admit it to himself as he was a gifted psychiatrist, emotionally. The physical part involved the chains he vaguely remembered being placed in. They were a lovely set of chains and if he hadn’t been in them he probably would have wanted a pair for home. There he would be safe for Bruce to string up, and be strung up, and they could play all they wanted.

Bruce Wayne. The Batman. Sudden rage made Crane’s spine curl sharply under him. He was sick to his growling stomach with the Batman. Every waking moment involved that dripping monstrosity of a man, from daydreams about injecting him once more with the Scarecrow’s toxin and watching him cry to fevered fantasies about the Batman ending their second meeting by throwing Crane on the ground and fucking him until the walls stopped moving.

The Scarecrow wanted nothing more than to kill and then perhaps fuck Batman, although the order of events could be played around with, while Dr. Jonathan Crane, buried deeply under the ecstasy and agony of the drug wanted about the same thing. Except that Crane wanted the Batman to help him first. His mind was his, dammit, and he didn’t want to share it with his unconscious fears and desires that manifested themselves as a man wearing a burlap sack on his head.

The Scarecrow twisted in his chains and fantasized about being back in the Narrows, terrorizing the mindless populace, while Dr. Crane struggled to regain dominance. Both watched with narrowed eyes as the Batman descended once more into Crane’s clammy prison, followed by that smug butler of his and a dark-skinned man that Crane instantly recognized from his careful study of the inner workings of Wayne Enterprise. Lucius Fox.

“Why do bats suddenly appear every time you are near?” the Scarecrow crooned softly as the three men approached his table-bed. He was happy to see the black irritation on the Batman’s smooth normal face while Dr. Crane carefully noted the quick shocked look on the butler’s face as he regarded the bound doctor. Fox’s face was inscrutable.

“I thought you said he was pretty sane,” Fox accused Bruce, a sly tone in his voice that the Scarecrow/Dr. Crane enjoyed.

“Sanity is an illusion, Mr. Fox,” the Scarecrow told him with a happy smile. “We erect the fantasy around our panicked brains in the hopes that we’ll be able to handle the world. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Just what I was thinking.” Bruce leaned over Crane’s supine body, causing the doctor to shiver pleasantly. “You need more of your toxin, don’t you?”

“Mmmm, perhaps.” The Scarecrow considered and then licked his lips over a wide grin. He arched his body up towards the Batman. “I can think of something else I need more.”

“Where’s your hideout, Crane?” Bruce ignored the Scarecrow’s obvious insinuations, but Crane caught the hard blink on his otherwise blank face. He was also aware that the butler was watching Bruce instead of him, a suspicious look in his eyes.

“Why go there? We can fuck just as easily here, Batman,” the Scarecrow practically purred the words and laughed as Bruce backed quickly away from him. “You didn’t seem concerned about our location last night.”

“Tell me where your toxins are, Crane,” Batman spit out through clenched teeth, “or you’ll never get a cure.”

The part of him that was the Scarecrow was about to say that he didn’t care if he was ever “cured” as long as Batman was still willing to use and abuse his body but Dr. Crane broke out for the first time in panic.

“The second warehouse…near Arkham,” Crane managed out. Sweat beaded on his forehead as part of him rebelled over this attempt to ruin the Scarecrow’s fun but he fought it back with the same determination that had created the cure in the first place. “That’s where it is…and my notes.”

Crane seemed to collapse into himself, looking small and vulnerable in the chains as his mind splintered apart once more in the stress of having said that much rationally.

“Help me,” he whispered before everything shut down for the night.


* * *


Bruce slid his mask under his arm as he approached the Tumbler. Alfred followed him quietly. Behind them Crane was still lying completely motionless, his mouth wide open and his eyes staring blankly up at the bats on the ceiling. Fox had returned back to the lab, after making Bruce promise to tell him if he uncovered anything in the warehouse.

“Just say it,” Bruce said when he reached the vehicle. His whole body was so tense that he was almost vibrating.

“What is it I’m supposed to say, sir?” Alfred asked mildly.

“You want to know if what Crane was saying is true. You want to know if I’m having sex with a psychotic criminal.”

“I’ve never asked into your private life and I don’t intend on starting now.”

Bruce snorted. “You always ask, Alfred, you just don’t use words.”

“I am sorry, sir. I’ll try not to not ask about your sexual escapades any longer.”

“We didn’t,” Bruce settled into the driver’s seat of the Tumbler and stared at his mask, the symbol of everything he thought that he believed in. “But I wanted to. I still want to.”

He slid on his mask and was about to close the top when Alfred put a hand on his arm. He stared at it in surprise. Alfred had always let him know in his own way how deeply he cared for his young charge but he had rarely been physically affectionate.

Alfred regarded him solemnly. “You’ve never disappointed me before. I don’t know if you can, Master Bruce. You’re more to me than the things that you do.”

Bruce stared back at the old man who had been all family to him for most of his life and lowered his head. “Thank you, Alfred.”

He slid on his mask and pressed the top button on the control panel. As the roof of the car came down he nodded briskly to Crane.

“Make sure he doesn’t swallow any bat droppings.” Batman almost grinned and then revved up the Tumbler, sending it screaming through the waterfall of the Bat Cave.

“Yes, that would a disappointment, wouldn’t it?” Alfred muttered and looked back at the corpse-like body of the doctor. With a sigh he picked up a supply blanket from the ground and threw it completely over Crane.

“I’m far too British for this nonsense.” Alfred made his way carefully up the stairs to the house and fantasized once again about the one thing he really wanted.

A working elevator.

TBC

Thanks

Transylvanian Concubine: God, I love Rasputina! And first posters! You rock my world...

tenchi187: Rest assured that the direction I take will be the direction of completely fucking nuts. We are talking about Scary and Bats here.

Dylan: Gosh, that's why I love Wayne/Crane too. How could a couple that looks that kinky together not actually be doing it? Thanks!

Rei: Thank you, characterization is something I feel strongly about so I hope that it's good.

DarlingTeapot: Will do, dahlink!

Miss Bunny Loo: I don't want to be responsible for anybody exploding so here you go!

Alice: Hey, I guess that voting really does work!


In Session Three: Of Doors and Folly

It took all of Bruce’s hard-earned self-control to simply undo the strange binding on Crane’s jacket when he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers down that smooth spine. The other man had refused to look at him since they’d entered the bathroom and somehow that made it a little harder, as though he were truly invading on the man’s personal space. He told himself that it was more than Crane would have enjoyed in the asylum and held his breath as the doctor pulled his undershirt off quickly and methodically. There was nothing in the striptease to suggest that Crane was trying to entice him and that made it even more seductive.